


Tit For Tat

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke needs a date for her company holiday party, and Bellamy seems like the most logical choice. They're already sleeping together. It's perfect. Bellamy isn't totally convinced, but he's also not great at saying no to Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tit For Tat

"Hey, do you have a holiday party this year?" Clarke asks, while Bellamy is looking for his boxers.

"Uh, yeah, I think so? It's really late, it's so fucking annoying. O's already going to be at Lincoln's so she can't be my plus one."

"You take your sister as your plus one to work events?" Clarke asks, propping herself up on her elbows. She pulled on a t-shirt after they were done, so it's not like a naked Clarke is staring at him from bed, but it's still getting harder and harder to leave after they're done with sex. 

Friends with benefits: great idea when they were both in grad school and had no time and needed release. But at some point, they really should have stopped. Still, he's not going to be the one to make the suggestion. It was Clarke's idea to start, it can be her idea to stop.

"She's way better with people than I am," he says. "She's outgoing and charming and I just sort of follow her around."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. Anyway, that's perfect. You can come with me to my holiday thing, and I can go with you to yours."

Bellamy freezes in the act of finding his shirt. "I can what?"

"I need a date," she says. "I was going to just buy you some beer to convince you, but this way makes way more sense. Quid pro quo."

"No, it doesn't. You need to explain it to me." He rubs his face, sits down on the bed next to her to pull his jeans on. "Why do need a date?"

"My new boss."

"Dante? The one you hate?"

"I don't hate him," she hedges, making him smile. She's so _stubborn_. "He's just patronizing. He's concerned about my work/life balance or something. When he told me about the holiday party, he was like, oh, yeah, my son Cage is coming, he's single and very successful, he's looking forward to meeting you, and I panicked and said I was bringing my boyfriend."

"Ah. My next question was why you weren't asking Raven."

"Yeah, girlfriend might have been better, I feel like Dante is progressive enough to be supportive of me being a lesbian, but not to realize bisexuality is a thing. But, like I said, I panicked."

"You know you don't have to do anything for me, right?" he asks, scrubbing his hand through his hair. The thought of going to a party with Clarke, _as her date_ makes him feel itchy under his skin. The idea of going to _two_ parties with her is honestly beyond his ability to comprehend. "I can just go with you."

"So, you don't need a date?" she asks, sounding dubious. "Hasn't that new Spanish teacher been flirting with you?"

Bellamy screws up his face. "Fuck. You're right."

He even _likes_ Echo; he should be happy she's into him. She's cool and smart, and he wishes he had a better reason he's not interested. He's been saying it's that he doesn't want to date someone he works with, but he doesn't think anyone really believes him. Not that he blames them. It's technically true, but it's not the _reason_.

"So, yeah. I scratch your back, you scratch mine."

"You realize this is almost the exact argument you used to convince me to start sleeping with you, right?"

"And that was an awesome idea," she says. "So clearly, you should listen to me."

"You think I should always listen to you."

"Just because I'm always right."

He considers, and then figures he can just ask. The advantage of friends with benefits, as an arrangement, is that they're friends, and they can just talk about shit. "You don't think this is a bad idea?"

"What?"

"We're sleeping together."

"Which is awesome."

He has to smile. "Which is awesome. You really think we should upgrade to sleeping together and going on dates?" It feels too heavy, so he upgrades to a smirk. "I know I'm irresistible, so I don't blame you, but--"

She shoves him, gentle, friendly. "Come on, it's way easier than taking someone I'm _not_ sleeping with. Raven knows me, but we'd have to put in a lot of groundwork to look like a real couple." She pauses. "Not that I'd mind practicing making out with Raven."

"It is pretty great," he agrees. "Not to brag."

"God, I got the worse end of that deal," she says, flopping back onto the bed. "I slept with Finn, you slept with Raven. You won that clusterfuck."

"I definitely did." He sighs. "When's your party?"

"Next Friday."

"Open bar?"

"Yup."

"If it goes badly, you're not coming to mine."

"How is it going to go badly? It's a holiday party. Most strangers already assume we're dating. What are you picturing going wrong here?"

"I haven't decided yet," he admits. "But I'll keep you posted."

*

"Please tell me this is the first step in an actual plan. Something with a snappy title. _Clarke Griffin's Ten-Step Plan to Actually Date Bellamy Blake_. Which should be on, like, step six, at least."

Clarke stirs her drink. "It just makes sense, okay? And if Bellamy wanted to date me, we'd be dating."

"I seriously don't understand how you're not," Raven says. Before Clarke can continue, she holds up her hand and goes on, "How long have you guys been fucking now?"

"A year and a half, give or take. With a couple breaks when he was actually dating someone."

"And you've been friends how long?"

"Three years?"

"And you've been in love with him _the whole time_. At some point, you need to do something."

"I did, I'm sleeping with him."

"And, you know, I supported that. I figured you guys would upgrade in no time. But no, you've been doing booty calls for _over a year_. This is why you need a plan. It's fucking pathetic, seriously. But taking him to your holiday party could work, if, again, it's _a plan_."

"I'm happy," she says, and means it. "He loves me. I'm the most important person to him outside of Octavia. I'm even getting laid. Why would I want to fuck that up?"

"Because you fucking love relationships!" Raven bursts out, passionate enough that Clarke actually jumps. "Look, I'm tired of this, okay? Finn did a number on you, fine. He fucked us both over. Lexa did even more of a number on you, and I'm still fucking pissed at her. But you got it in your head that you don't need something serious, and it's bullshit. And _he_ wants to date someone. He's had girlfriends, remember? What are you going to do if he meets someone he really wants to be with?"

She swallows, hard, because of course she's thought about it. She thinks about it all the time. It's honestly why she came up with the stupid Christmas-party exchange in the first place, aside from not wanting to get set up with her boss's son. Bellamy hasn't showed any signs of wanting to date his coworker--or anyone else, honestly--in the last few months, but it can't hurt to stake a claim.

And Raven might have a point about her dating thing. It's fucking _stupid_ , how much she's looking forward to getting to pretend to be Bellamy's girlfriend for a couple nights. After Lexa, she'd been sure she was done with relationships, and then only six months later, Raven had introduced her to Bellamy, the surly, sarcastic dude who'd been her Finn rebound, and Clarke had felt a twinge of interest she _hated_. 

She told herself it was just lust, and the fact that she and Bellamy bickered all the time made it easier to lie to herself, to pretend she didn't actually like him.

Sleeping with him is probably, broadly speaking, a mistake. She didn't really expect him to take her up on it, didn't expect it to just keep on going, but--how was she supposed to _stop_ having awesome sex with her favorite person?

"I'll see how it goes, okay?" she tells Raven. "This is a good test-run, right? See how it is dating him."

"Pretending to date him." There's a pause, and then Raven says, "You know I wouldn't tell you to do this if I thought it wasn't going to go well for you, right? I want you to be happy. And him."

"God, how are you so functional about your exes? You're still friends with Finn, you're encouraging me to hook up with Bellamy--" She sighs and puts her head on her arms on the bar. "Teach me your secrets."

"Communication and not being a dumbass," Raven says. "I keep telling you."

"Cheers," says Clarke, and Raven taps her glass.

"Merry Christmas."

*

Miller isn't impressed with the plan, but Bellamy isn't exactly surprised. Miller isn't impressed with any part of Bellamy's life, and especially isn't impressed with the parts of it involving Clarke. Bellamy never should have told him they were sleeping together. He tries not to share it much; the more people who know, the more likely it is it will get back to his sister, and Octavia would definitely kick his ass if she heard about this. He can't even say he wouldn't deserve it.

"I thought you weren't even going to your holiday party," Miller says. "Monty said you were abandoning us."

"I still might not. If Clarke's sucks, I'll just make her buy me some booze and watch documentaries she hates with me."

There's a pause, and then Miller says, "You know your alternate plan to hanging out with Clarke involves hanging out with Clarke, right? All roads lead to Clarke."

"She's going to owe me for going to her thing with her," he says, shrugging. "That's the night I'll collect. Either I'll make her come to my shitty thing for me, or we'll do something else."

"So, totally normal friend shit."

"Totally normal friend shit," Bellamy agrees.

"So I assume that means you told your sister."

"Nope."

"Uh huh. I thought not. You _know_ this is fucking stupid. I can't believe you told me."

"I can't either. I already regret it." He looks at his drink. "I have to tell O, don't I."

"It's probably going to be worse if you don't, yeah," Miller says. "You want someone else to get there first? Like Clarke?"

"Fuck." 

Miller pauses, and then says, "Why aren't you just dating her?"

"She's my sister," Bellamy says. Miller doesn't even dignify it with a response, and Bellamy sighs. "She's not interested in that. If she wanted to date me, she would have said something. The whole friends-with-benefits thing? That was her idea. So was asking me to be her fake date to this stuff instead of her real date. She's been clear about what she wants. I'm not going to be a dick and try to make it more serious than it is."

There's another pause; most conversations with Miller are punctuated with long silences. Finally, he says, "Tell your sister, dude."

"I'm texting her now," he says, and really does send O a message: _Don't freak out, but I'm Clarke's plus one for her holiday party. Her boss is trying to set her up with his son._ "Happy?" he adds, showing Miller.

"Basically never," he says, with a heavy sigh. "But getting closer."

Bellamy snorts. "Yeah, yeah."

"So, when's the party?" 

"Friday."

"Formal?"

"Yup."

"She's going to wear some hot dress and you're going to die."

"I probably get to fuck her after," he points out. "So, really, I'm just going to have an awesome night."

"Keep telling yourself that," says Miller.

He's on his way home when his sister calls, so probably she only just saw his text. He's just as glad she waited until Miller wasn't there to hear his flailing explanations. "Hey, O."

"Are you dating yet?"

"I started dating when I was like fourteen. I wore a suit, you made fun of me."

"You deserved it. Are you dating Clarke?"

"No."

"But you're her date to a party."

"She needs a favor, not a boyfriend."

"She can need both."

"Fine. But she only asked for one." He sighs. "Don't get weird about it, okay? Miller is already being weird about it. He's got it covered."

"You guys seriously should just get married already."

"If her boss's son doesn't take a hint, I'll propose. I promise."

"Are you going to bring a ring?"

"Yeah, but not a nice one. So it won't be weird."

She heaves an enormous sigh; drama queen runs in the family. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Yeah, don't worry," he assures her. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

*

Bellamy texts when Clarke is putting the finishing touches on her makeup. He's picking her up, so she assumes it's the _on my way_ text, but instead he's written _We don't have a story_.

_Did you send this to the wrong person?_ she responds, genuinely curious. He contributes to a history blog, so they might be missing a post for tomorrow or something.

_A dating story. Relationship history, how we met, etc._

Clarke can't help a smile. _Isn't that just our actual relationship? Raven introduced us, we started dating when we started sleeping together. Don't overthink this, Bell._

_Easier said than done. Be there in fifteen_

She takes a few deep breaths, calming herself. This isn't a big deal, really. It's just the two of them, hanging out, making fun of her asshole coworkers, like they always do. There might be a little more kissing and touching, but that's not really a downside, as far as she's concerned.

It's going to be fine.

"God, why do you think it's a good idea to slick your hair back?" she asks, when he appears at her door. It's better than telling him how hot he looks in the suit he's wearing. "You have naturally great hair and you fight with it."

"Nice to see you too," he says, smiling wryly. "Thanks for your feedback. You look amazing."

"You do too, except for the hair. Come on, we're going to the bathroom and fixing that."

"You're the best fake girlfriend ever."

She can't actually wash the gel out, but she at least gets his hair looking more like him, and she gets to play with it, as a bonus. Which she suspects might be why he keeps doing the gel thing; he totally loves it when people play with his hair and is too stubborn to just tell her to do it.

"So, who's going to be at this thing I need to look out for?" he asks, once she's approved his hairstyle.

"Boss, Dante. Old, acts really nice, but gives off weird vibes."

"And his son you're going to marry."

"I haven't actually met him. But his name is Cage."

"So they're a cartoon supervillain family."

"Basically. Anya and Harper are friends of mine."

"And they aren't going to ask where your surprise boyfriend came from?"

She ducks her head. "I've mentioned you a lot and never specifically said you're _not_ my boyfriend, so it's probably going to be a _good to meet you, we've heard so much about you_ situation."

He doesn't give any response to that information beyond holding the car door open for her, so he's at least not pissed. "Who else?"

"Just a bunch of random coworkers and donors. We're pretty non-interactive, as an office. Dante's just taken an interest in me because he thinks I have _potential_."

"Gross," he says, and she laughs.

"Basically." She bites her lip, can't help smiling at him. He's all dressed up and sacrificing his Friday night for her, and she's struck by a wave of fondness. "Did I thank you yet? For doing this."

"Nope, you launched straight into criticizing my hair." He flashes a smile. "I don't mind. Free booze and I get to embarrass you in public with cute pet names. I'm thinking _cookie_."

She hums, like she's thinking hard. "See, but you're the one who has to say that."

"Shit." He's quiet and then says, "Really, I don't mind."

"I know. But thanks anyway."

Clarke works for a non-profit, and she can't help feeling a little annoyed at the extravagance of their holiday party. It's funded by the board and does bring in big donors, but--she doesn't get rich people who only give to charity if charity wines and dines them first. 

But the holiday party _is_ really nice, she can't deny.

"Jesus," Bellamy mutters, and Clarke takes his hand and squeezes it.

"I'll buy you a burger and some cheap vodka after," she promises.

"It better be really cheap," he says, and she laughs.

"The cheapest. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Fancy parties have been a part of Clarke's life since she was a kid, and she basically knows the drill. They grab champagne from a passing waiter and mingle a little, meeting Anya and her girlfriend, whom Clarke didn't know existed, and chatting with a couple donors Clarke vaguely knows.

They're grabbing food when Dante finds them.

"Clarke!"

"Hi, Dante, it's good to see you," she says. 

"And this must be your partner," he says, which is not what Clarke called him when she told her boss about Bellamy. It makes her feel vaguely itchy. _Partner_ , like lover, is one of those relationship words she never uses. They just feel greasy to her.

"Bellamy Blake," he says, offering his hand with a smooth smile. For all Bellamy is a cranky bastard, he can be really charming when he wants to be, and he's cranking it up now. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Clarke's told me so much about you."

"Then you have me at a disadvantage, she rarely mentions you," says Dante, which, seriously, what the fuck.

"Yeah, I probably don't come up a lot in a work environment," Bellamy says, unfazed. "Half my coworkers only know her as _the one with the strong opinions about standardized testing_."

"It's fu--" Clarke starts, and Bellamy grins like he won something.

"I shouldn't have said anything. Don't get her started."

"Shut up," she says, petulance warring with a smile, and Bellamy squeezes her hand.

"Standardized testing?" Dante asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm a high-school teacher," says Bellamy. "Clarke has opinions about education reform."

"Ah," says Dante. "Oh, here's--" He flags down a douchey-looking guy with a scar on his lip that's not nearly as cute as Bellamy's scar. "Cage, this is the woman I was telling you about, Clarke Griffin, and her partner, Bellamy Blake."

"Ah, Clarke," says Cage. "A pleasure to meet you. I was just talking to your mother." Clarke feels her blood run cold, and it just gets worse when he continues, "She was shocked to hear you'd brought a boyfriend."

*

Bellamy feels Clarke freeze against his side, her smile going rigid. He knows about her mother in the abstract--she's rich and they're not close--but he's never met the woman, and Clarke didn't warn him that she'd be here. So she's a surprise, and Clarke is pretending she has a serious boyfriend her mother knows nothing about. Perfect.

"She didn't tell me she was coming," Clarke says, and it comes out sounding mostly natural. "Or I would have mentioned it." She throws Bellamy a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I know you told me to tell her."

"Hey, it's your mom, you get to decide when to tell her about me," he says, with a shrug. "But, yeah, this isn't really the best place to break the news."

"Does she not approve?" asks Dante. Bellamy likes him better than Cage, based on first impressions, but he's still hoping to leave the conversation as quickly as possible. He knows Clarke's job is rewarding and important, but she has to deal with way more rich assholes than he ever wants to. 

At least she's used to it.

"I guess I'll find out," says Clarke. "My mother and I aren't as close as you and Cage are, I'm sorry to say."

It's a smooth cover, and the tension on her face looks--well, he has no confidence Dante and Cage can read Clarke's face well enough to tell the difference between _I don't want to tell my mom about my boyfriend_ and _my boyfriend isn't real_ , so it's probably fine. The situation is awkward, they just don't know _how_ awkward.

"I'm sorry to hear that," says Dante, which sounds genuine, at least.

Cage is watching them with calculation in his eyes, and it would probably be bad for Clarke's job if her boss's son thought she made up a boyfriend just to get out of a date with him, so Bellamy adds, "We're pretty private about it." He squeezes Clarke's hand. "All our friends told us we were perfect for each other, but we're stubborn, so we didn't want to tell them they were right. We're used to not mentioning it."

Clarke elbows him, but her can see she's grateful. "Don't tell my boss about my terrible life decisions and crippling flaws."

"Oh, so I shouldn't tell him about--"

She takes the cue and puts her hand over his mouth. "I think we need to go find my mom," she says. "But we'll talk to you later."

Once they're a safe distance from the Wallaces, Clarke gives him a wry smile and says, "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" he asks, with genuine bafflement. "I'm sorry your fate-dating scheme backfired. No, wait, the other one. Smug. I'm smug it backfired. I told you."

She laughs. "I didn't know meeting my mom would be part of the deal. If she'd told me she was coming, I would have warned you."

The conversation is just getting increasingly surreal. "You still would have brought me?"

"I'd still need a date, right?"

"But she's going to think you're, uh. _Dating me_."

"That's the plan, yeah." She shrugs. "You're already busy for Christmas, and we don't have another family event we celebrate until her birthday in March. We could have broken up by then."

He feels a twinge in his chest. "We will have, right?"

"Fuck, there she is," Clarke says, brushing by the question. "You don't have to come."

"Clarke--"

"I know it's going to be awkward, but it's my awkwardness."

"Hey, I'm your boyfriend," he says. "It's _our_ awkwardness. Besides, I think your boss's son is suspicious, you probably don't want him thinking I'm abandoning you." The excuse feels shitty, so he adds, "I wouldn't anyway. I know you and your mom are pretty complicated. I've got your back."

"For the record, I'm going to tell her I didn't tell her about you because I thought she wouldn't approve. Which is true."

"Yeah?"

Her thumb strokes against his hand. It's weird, how much he's enjoying the stupid hand-holding. It's a kind of intimacy he doesn't usually get from her, and he likes getting to openly show affection. Even if it feels far too natural for his mental well-being. "Remember all those reasons you hated me when Octavia told you we were friends?"

He has to grin. "You're a rich, spoiled brat who's never worked a day in your life?"

"Yup. And that's actually my mom. She's going to think you're--"

"Not good enough for you," he supplies, when he sees her struggling. He knows she'd never think it, and she doesn't know how to say it. 

"I'm really sorry," she says. "She can be an asshole."

"So that's where you get it," he teases, and her mother spots them before Clarke can respond. 

He recognizes Abby Griffin from pictures in Clarke's apartment, although she was smiling in those. She looks troubled at the sight of them, like maybe she thought Cage was wrong about Clarke bringing someone.

"Not too late to run," Clarke mutters, and he tugs her closer to his side.

"Not without you. Besides, I want fancy dessert."

"Clarke," says Abby, with a brittle smile. "I heard you had a date."

"I didn't hear you were coming at all," Clarke says, bright. "This is my boyfriend, Bellamy. You remember, Octavia's brother."

"You never mentioned the two of you were together."

"No, I didn't," she agrees.

"It's a pleasure," Bellamy says, offering Abby his hand.

Abby's eyes flick over him, as if she's looking for something. The punchline, maybe. "Same. How long have the two of you been dating?"

"Depends on what you mean by dating," Clarke says, with way too much pep. "It was purely physical for a while."

"Clarke," says Abby, harsh, while Bellamy tries to neither laugh nor choke.

She leans into his side and looks up at him with what feels like genuine affection, making his breath catch. "It was. I thought you wanted me to be honest."

"I can't believe you brought your--" Abby's jaw works as she tries to come up with a term for him. Clarke turns away from him, eyes going hard.

"My _boyfriend_. It started like that. But he's--I brought him because I love him."

It's not news, of course. He knows Clarke loves him. Clarke is the kind of person who loves all her friends, even if she doesn't say it much. But--the sincerity in her voice is enough to nearly break his heart.

"You love him enough you haven't even told me about him," says Abby.

"Yeah, I didn't want you judging him before you had to," Clarke shoots back.

"That's not fair," says her mother. "You don't get to tell me I was unfair to your boyfriend when I didn't even know about him."

"We've been keeping it quiet," he interjects, mostly because he's kind of worried they're going to start throwing punches. "We're both pretty private." He flashes a tight smile. "Sorry to be meeting you like this. We would have warned you if we'd known you'd be here, though."

Abby looks like she might argue, but Clarke adds, soft, "I _am_ sorry to spring this on you. I didn't mean to. I just--" The smile she gives Bellamy is helpless, and his returning expression must be just as pathetic. She's absolutely going to break his stupid heart. "I'm really happy, but I didn't know how to tell you."

"That's all you had to say," Clarke's mother says, voice gentle. "That's all I want for you."

Bellamy clears his throat; he probably shouldn't be here. This is a family moment. "I'm going to go grab another drink," he offers. "Can I get either of you anything?"

Abby looks relieved. "No, but thank you."

Clarke leans up and presses her lips against his, the gentlest kiss she's ever given him. "I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

"Yeah," he says, gives her fingers a final squeeze, and lets go.

*

Clarke is having trouble really paying attention to her mother's questions about Bellamy, not when she could be following him, apologizing, or--honestly, _not_ apologizing. What she really wants is to chase after him and tell him everything she said was true and she should have said all that stuff to him, directly, a long time ago.

"You don't have to be embarrassed of your boyfriend," Abby is saying. "Teachers are important, I--"

"I'm not embarrassed," she says. "Honestly, telling you about my love life isn't one of my top priorities. I remember how great you were about Lexa."

"I was _right_ \--"

"Just because we broke up doesn't mean you were right," Clarke snaps. "I still like girls. It wasn't a _phase_. I'm bi. I have a boyfriend now. If it doesn't work out with him, I might date a girl again. And if you can't deal with that, if you're going to be patronizing about my boyfriend--"

"I'm not," Abby says. "He seems like a very nice young man."

"Well, you don't know him very well," Clarke says, with fondness. "And I need to go talk to him. Seriously, please, next time you're coming to one of my _work events_ , give me a head's up. I was supposed to warn him about awkward situations."

Her mother's lip twitches. "I'm an awkward situation?"

"You were here for that conversation, right?" Clarke asks, but she's smiling a little too.

"The two of you should come for dinner sometime," she says, in lieu of answering. "I'd like to get to know him."

"Assuming this isn't such a scarring experience he dumps me, I'll see what I can do."

Her mother rolls her eyes. "Believe me, Clarke. If he's still looking at you like he does, he's not going to dump you."

It's odd to be getting comfort about her issues with her best friend with benefits from her mother--or getting comfort from her mother about anything, honestly--but given how nervous she is about the whole thing, she'll take whatever support she can get.

"That's what I'm counting on," she says. "I'll call about dinner."

Bellamy is chatting with Harper about _Jessica Jones_ when Clarke slips under his arm. He gives her a warm smile and passes her a drink, and Clarke really can't do this anymore. She wants it to be like this all the time.

"Everything okay with your mom?"

"I think so." She smiles at Harper. "Sorry, I'm going to take him, I feel really bad. We'll talk to you later." She takes his arm, pulling him through the crowd towards the garden. "I apologized, right?"

"Yeah, but you didn't have to. It's fine."

"It's not. I should have told her."

"Yeah, I know exactly how much you and your mom chat," he says, fond. "I'm not really surprised. Besides, I don't really keep my relatives informed about people I'm casually sleeping with. It's weird."

"I should have realized she might come to this," she corrects, because that's something she really _can_ apologize for. "I could have warned you."

He kisses her temple. "I don't care, Clarke. Seriously. As long as you're okay."

"Yup. She wants to have dinner with us."

"Awesome," he says, trying for dry, but his voice goes a little strange on that one, no surprise.

Clarke pushes the door open and takes his hand, tugging him into the garden.

"That bad?" he asks, mild. "Did she threaten to disown you?"

"No, she's--it's fine." She worries her lip. "She liked you. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I think she was mostly annoyed I had a serious boyfriend I never mentioned."

He shrugs. "She was talking to Cage, she probably noticed he was a sleazebag. She'll probably understand if you tell her the truth."

Clarke wets her lips, takes a breath, and says, "I did tell her the truth."

"That might backfire on you," he says, and she chokes out a laugh. "If she tells Dante--"

"No, no," she says, smiling in spite of herself. "I meant--Bellamy, I'm totally crazy about you." He freezes, staring, and she plows on before she can worry about it. "I should have just asked you out, but I was--I chickened out and asked if you wanted to hook up instead and sex is great but I want more and if you can't I get it, but--"

"Breathe," he says, warm and amused, and Clarke does let out one, long exhale of relief. He's still smiling, so she didn't fuck everything up beyond repair.

"Sorry. Nerves."

"Yeah, uh, however you want to tell me you're in love with me is fine. I'm not going to critique your technique." He wets his lips. "That is what you're trying to tell me, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He stares at her for a second, caught, and then his grin breaks out. "Fuck, and Miller said this was a bad idea," he says, and leans down to kiss her.

It's not like kissing is anything new for them. They've kissed plenty of times before. She'd sort of wondered if they wouldn't, back when they first started hooking up, because that didn't feel like a friends-with-benefits thing, kissing. But Bellamy likes it, likes putting his mouth everywhere on her, and she wasn't going to tell him to stop.

She hadn't realized it would feel different, when it was real.

The kiss is slow and easy, Bellamy coaxing her mouth open, sliding his tongue against hers like he'd be happy to do nothing else for the rest of his life, and Clarke tangles her hands in his still-stiff hair and tries to return the kiss in the same way, to assure him she's not going anywhere either.

"Hey," he says, when he finally pulls back. His smile is her new favorite thing. It was her old favorite thing too, but somehow it's so much better. "You want to come to my Christmas party with me?"

She laughs. "I'm already going."

"It's symbolic. I'm asking you to be my actual date." He kisses her again, quicker. "Also, I love you too. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for years."

"The whole casual sleeping together thing might have been a bad idea," she admits, and he laughs.

"At least I was getting laid while I pined." He nudges his nose against hers. "Seriously, will you be my date?"

Clarke smacks the back of his head gently. "Don't be a dumbass."

They linger in the garden until it starts to get cold and Clarke starts to get worried that her choice to make out with her new boyfriend will reflect poorly on her in terms of being social at the office party, so she drags him inside to mingle again.

"This is a nightmare, by the way," he murmurs, close to her ear. "You're going to have to make it up to me later."

It's on the tip of her tongue to say something about how she doesn't put out on the first date, just to mess with him, but one of the board members who knows her mother comes up to introduce herself.

"This must be your boyfriend," she says, offering Bellamy her hand.

"Yup," says Clarke. "This is my boyfriend."

It feels better every time she says it.

*

By the time they're leaving, Clarke is tipsy and happy, and Bellamy is just buzzed enough to still be good to drive. He had another fairly painless conversation with her mother, about his job and his students and how Octavia is doing, and when she asks when he'll be available for dinner, he even gives her some dates. He is fucking overflowing with goodwill towards man.

"Are you coming over?" she asks, leaning against his side.

"You do have to make this up to me," he says, sliding his arm around her waist. Still, he has to ask, "Do you want me to?" He doesn't know if officially dating means they're stepping back from sex. Which he could probably live with, but he really doesn't want to leave her.

"Yeah, I do. Or I can come to you. Either way." She looks at him through her eyelashes, warm and hot at the same time, and he swallows hard. "I want some quality boyfriend time."

He doesn't break any laws getting them back to her place, or, well, no more than usual. But he squeezes some yellow lights and stretches some speed limits. He figures he's justified.

He presses her against the door as soon as they're inside, kissing her long and deep, stroking his thumb against her cheek. Clarke melts into it, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he can't decide if he wants to take her to the bed or just fuck her the first time as her boyfriend right here, against the door, because he can't fucking wait.

"Bell," she says, fond, laughing, even though he didn't ask. "There's no rush."

"I've been wanting this for years," he says, brushing his mouth against her jaw. 

"You've been getting it for years." He meets her eyes, feelings relief flood him when she smiles, sheepish. "I know it's different. But seriously, we've got all night. And then it's the weekend."

He laughs and scoops her up into his arms. "You're planning to fuck me for two straight days?"

"Half fucking, half staring into each other's eyes and saying how much we love each other," she says, burying her face against his neck. "Maybe a little talking about how stupid we are and how much all our friends are going to make fun of us about this."

He puts her down on the bed and just looks at her, hair spread out on the pillow, killer red dress, all _his_. He can't believe he didn't ask sooner.

"They'll probably just be relieved," he says, shrugging off his jacket and undoing his tie. Clarke watches, eyebrows raised. "What?" he asks.

"I don't even get to undress you?" she asks, sounding amused.

"Suits are a pain," he says.

"You could at least make it sexy, then. Dance a little."

He snorts, tugs the tie off and wiggling his hips a little as unbuttons his shirt. "You're so fucking demanding. Is this what you're gonna be like as a girlfriend?"

"Basically," she says, eyes sweeping over his bare chest.

"Awesome," he says, undoes his slacks, and slides back on top of her for a kiss. It's almost exactly like before, just as fun and easy and hot as ever, but she _loves him_. This isn't a quick, convenient thing for her, not a placeholder, not something she'll abandon once someone else comes along. He gets to have this.

Her hands trail up his back, fingers tracing the muscles, and it does feel strangely like the first time.

Maybe it just feels like the _beginning_.

"How does your dress come off?" he asks, rasping his teeth against her shoulder.

"Zipper on the side," she says, fumbling and tugging it down. Between the two of them, they get the dress tossed aside, and she's left in a strapless bra and matching lacy underwear, the best thing he's ever seen. He doesn't even realize he's staring until she says, "I was hoping if I didn't say anything at the party, I'd just look so hot after you'd ask me to marry you."

"I still might," he says, sliding his hands up her sides to her breasts. They're practically spilling out of the bright red lace and he can't decide if he wants his hands or his mouth on them first. "What do you want?" he asks. She's usually good about taking charge.

"I really just want you inside me, honestly."

"Really?" he asks, surprised. She tends to like foreplay, kissing and touching, his mouth or his hands first, not that he minds. He loves getting to touch her for hours.

A flush colors her cheeks. "I always thought, you know. It could be the last time. So I wanted to make it count. But now I just--I want to feel like I'm _yours_."

"You are," he promises, but he kind of gets it. "So I shouldn't be eating you out?" he asks.

"Tomorrow, for sure," she says, and he laughs, pulls her underwear off and slides two fingers in her, just to check.

"Jesus, is this all you've been thinking about?" he asks. She's so fucking wet.

"I nearly made you fuck me in the bathroom. I just--fuck, I couldn't wait. I wanted it to be real." 

"It is. Condoms?"

"I'm clean and I've got the implant. And I haven't slept with anyone but you since I started sleeping with you."

It maybe shouldn't be a surprise, but he's had girlfriends. He thought she might have--well, he didn't think she was in love with him, but she is, and he's the only one she wants. 

His life is fucking _awesome_.

"If you're sure," he says, biting her neck gently. 

"I've been thinking about it all night, yeah," she says.

He pushes another finger into her, just to make sure she's ready, and she moans and bucks against him until she swats him away. 

"Come on, Bellamy," she says. "Please, fuck me."

He scrambles out of his underwear and kisses her, sliding into her slowly. Her leg hooks over her leg and she pulls him all the way in all at once, making him laugh. "God, you're so fucking impatient," he teases, taking a second to settle in before he starts to move again, rolling his hips the way he knows she likes, adjusting her so he can hit her g-spot.

"Fuck," she breathes. "I'm so glad you love me too, I didn't want to fuck this up."

He moves his mouth down so he can suck her nipple through the lace of her bra, smiling as it stiffens under the fabric. He's not always great at multitasking, but her breasts look unbelievable right now. It would be a crime to not take advantage of that.

She fumbles, gets the bra undone and off, and he scrapes his teeth against her this time, managing to keep up his pace as he fucks her. It's not the most comfortable position he's ever been in, but at the same time, it's _perfect_. "Bell, please," she says. Her hand is fumbling for her clit, and he checks he can support himself on his left arm before batting her away and getting her clit himself with his right hand. "Yeah," she breathes. "Yeah, just like that. I'm so--"

She doesn't even get to finish saying she's close, just arches up and comes, taking his deeper as her hips press into him. He kisses her as he speeds up, fucking her hard and fast until he climaxes himself, spilling inside her, even better without the barrier of latex.

He rolls off her onto his back, and she surprises him by clutching his hand so hard it nearly hurts. "What?" he asks, rolling over to nuzzle her hair. "You okay?"

"Don't leave," she says. "Stay over."

He tugs her closer. "I wasn't going to. I just didn't want to crush you." She noses his collarbone, and he lets his eyes close. "I'm not going anywhere, Clarke."

"Good," she says, and pulls the covers up around them. "I still want you to eat me out later."

*

"So, you're claiming you've been Bellamy's girlfriend for how long?" Monty asks. Clarke only vaguely knows him, as Bellamy's coworker and Miller's new boyfriend, but she likes him a lot. And it's nice to have him and Miller around; they can just talk to each other and avoid everyone else.

"We're counting when we started sleeping together as the official start of our relationship," she says, trying not to smile. She's more than willing to admit that they have both been ridiculous about this entire thing, at this point. The reactions have ranged from _finally_ to _I told you so_ to just uncontrollable laughter from Lincoln. Clarke had never seen him laugh that much. It' was a little scary. "Mostly because that's what I told my mother."

"And how long have you been sleeping together?"

"No comment."

Monty snorts. "I know we haven't known each other for that long, but I can say you guys are ridiculous, right? We're at that level of friendship, aren't we?"

"I'm surprised strangers on the street aren't telling us we're ridiculous," she admits. "You're totally allowed."

He grins, and Clarke grins back.

It's been a good party, so far. A lot more laid back than hers, just a bunch of teachers complaining about how busy last semester was and how busy the next one is going to be and agreeing with Clarke about standardized testing. She got to meet Echo, who is really cool, and when she tells Bellamy he should have gone for it, he just rolls his eyes, kisses his temple, and points out that dating other girls when he's already in love with her has always been massively unappealing. 

Overall, she's having a great night.

"It's going well?" he asks. "The first--what, week?"

"Yeah," she says. It's going kind of amazingly well, if she's honest; she thought it would feel weirder, to keep on being herself with him, but it's not as much of a change as she thought it would be. But it's no wonder everyone said they were obvious, because they're acting the same as they always have. It doesn't seem strange at all, that she's planning to spend Christmas with him, once she's done at her mother's house. Of course they're spending Christmas together. They're going to spend all their Christmases together, if she has anything to say about it.

"It's going really well," she tells him, leans back into Bellamy automatically when he slots in behind her and gives her a drink. "Right?"

"I don't know what you guys were talking about, but I'll disagree with you on principle," he says. "It's awful."

Clarke laughs. "Never mind, Bellamy hates our relationship."

"Oh, yeah, it's the worst," he says, arm tightening around her. "I'm breaking up with you as soon as this party is over."

"I stand corrected," Clarke says, smiling at Monty. "We're a total disaster."

Monty is smiling into his drink too. "You guys are really something else," he says, and Clarke has to agree. They really are.


End file.
